"But so very few people have been good or kind to her, you see," Mr. Tant reminded him, as he opened the door. "I'll come with you, and find a cab for you; you might get lost," said Gilbert. "And pray get all those silly notions out of your head; if you knew this child as well as I do, you'd look at the matter in a different light. At the same time, as people are[16] so apt to misunderstand even our best motives, perhaps you'd better not say anything to Enid—or to her mother. If there's any explaining to be done, I can do it when I come to see them." [16] He found the cab for his friend, and saw him drive away. Walking back slowly into Arcadia Street, he determined that he would if possible see that little Princess next door that very evening—if only to assure himself that she was the child he knew her to be, and he her big friend—years and years older and wiser. [17] [17] CHAPTER II THE KING OF A LEAN KINGDOM ARCADIA STREET is noted—locally, at least—for its "gardens." By this term I would not have you understand that hidden away in that corner of Islington are bowers of beauty, or that you may stroll at eventide under the drooping branches of trees, what time the soft scents of flowers are wafted to your nostrils. Rather let it be said that attached to each dingy house is a dingy plot of ground that is only a "garden" by courtesy—a place where the primeval instincts of man have from time to time urged him to dig in the earth, for the sole reason that it is earth, and in the mad hope to raise from it something that no other London garden has yet accomplished. The moon that looks down on each slip of ground at night knows differently; she has seen the thing being done for generation after generation, and finally given up in despair. Also the cats look on tolerantly, because they too know how it will end, and that the victory will be with them easily in the long run. You may look into many such gardens, and may see for yourselves how bravely they began—with what high hopes. Here, for example, is what was once intended to be a summer-house; and it has long[18] since fallen into decay, and become a place where the shabby things that are not wanted even in a shabby house have been tossed from time to time, and left to ruin. You will see creepers that started well, and intended great things, and clung quite bravely to walls; until the London atmosphere and neglect and one thing
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